The Story of a Very Confused, Supposedly Brainless
by GlowySphere
Summary: Wizard of Oz, Wicked – the musical – crossover Fiyero’s thoughts when he is suddenly a scarecrow and feels a longing for a brain. Hopefully tying up some loose ends I think existed between the musical Wicked and the Wizard of Oz. I may have to take libe


**The Wizard of Oz: The Story of a Very Confused, Supposedly Brainless Scarecrow**

Summary: Wizard of Oz, Wicked – the musical – crossover Fiyero's thoughts when he is suddenly a scarecrow and feels a longing for a brain. Hopefully tying up some loose ends I think existed between the musical Wicked and the Wizard of Oz. I may have to take liberties towards the end though. 

Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz belongs to L. Frank Baum – the source I'm using (the 1939 Movie with Judy Garland) is MGMs and all of that lot. Wicked was written by Gregory Maguire but I'm really going to focus on that – for obvious reasons – so in that case it belongs to (let me just get my programme) um... Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman and Universal Pictures. I think. 

**Chapter 1: The Pondering of the Brainless**

He wakes up attached to a wooden pole, wondering whether or not this was usual for him. Who was he anyway? He can't remember his name and has to pass when he tries to guess what age he was. The next area on his list was 'occupation' and he figures that that must be scarecrow considering he is in a field, tied to a pole and literally had straw for brains. Wait: could scarecrows even think? Where they aware of there existence? This is where it gets too philosophical for him and he decides that it didn't really matter anyway. It would be better not to think about it so that he doesn't end up driving himself insane with the questions. Life is painless for the brainless, right? Oh, that was familiar. He hopes someone comes along soon to get him down soon because he is getting bored. How much of an attention span should a scarecrow normally have?

He's not sure how long he's there watching the crows eating the corn in the field, their cawing sounding like laughter to him – he decides that he must not be a very good scarecrow – before the girl and her dog came.

"Follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road," she murmurs to herself. He's sure that could possibly be taken as a sign of mental illness. Than again, so could thinking you're a scarecrow to some people.

"Now which way do we go?" She spins around, as if the answer will come to her that way.

"Pardon me, that way is a very nice way," or at least it looks it to him.

"Who said that?" Her dog barks at him in response. Well, he thinks, that's a little yapper.

"Don't be silly, Toto, scarecrows don't talk," now he's starting to wonder if she really is right in the head, talking about what can and can't talk to her dog!

"It's pleasant down that way too," she asks her dog if he wasn't just pointing the other way, "Of course people do go both ways."

He hopes they do anyway, or else if this girl won't help he really will be stuck up here. Should he have asked where she was going before he tried to give directions? He won't know the best way to go until he knows where she intends to end up. Well that's just stupid! Of course he can't ask where she's going – well, he could but he wouldn't be much more help. He's only just woken up in this field with no memory of anything else, if there is anything else to remember.

"Why you did say something didn't you?" she asks him. He can't figure out if he should tell this strange girl the truth and risk the possible insanity so he shakes his head, then realises if she thinks scarecrows can't talk, then they probably won't understand when other people do: so he began to nod. He needed to get down anyway and it was likely that the only way she could hurt him is if she was carrying a box of matches in her basket.

"Are you doing that on purpose or can't you make up your mind?"

"That's the trouble, I can't make up my mind: I haven't got a brain," he figures this is the reason why he can't think of a straight, final answer for anything, "only straw."

"How can you talk if you haven't got a brain?"

That's a good question and he doesn't know the answer, so he tells her that, adding, "But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking. Don't they?"

He adds the question at the end because he isn't entirely sure whether or not that is true but she agrees with him.

"Well, we haven't really met properly, have we?"

"Why no," the young girl seems to be taking this all in here stride and he wonders briefly what else has happened to her today that is unusual to her, for her to react this way but quickly brushes that thought aside. He decides he should do the same.

"How do you do?" he returns the question to her.

"Very well, thank you."

"Oh, I'm not feeling at all well. You see, it's very tedious being stuck up here all day long with a pole up your back."

"Oh, dear that must be terribly uncomfortable. Can't you get down?"

"Down? No- you see- well I'm..." he wriggles around to show her just how stuck he really is.

"Oh, well, here, let me help you."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, very kind," its here he begins to ask himself what exactly he should do when she gets him down.

When she lets him know that she can't really figure out how to get him down he tells her, "Of course I'm not bright about doing things but if you'll just bend the nail in the back maybe I'll slip off..."

Before he's even finished she does so and he falls to the ground, losing some straw as he does so.

"Woops, there goes some me again," he tells her, wondering what he meant by 'again'.

"Does it hurt you?"

She seems frightened about him being hurt so he reassures her by saying, "Oh, no, I just keep picking it back up and putting it back in again."

She doesn't seem to realise that if he's attached to a pole he couldn't very well go about picking up pieces of himself all of the time. He stopped that thought before it led to the "Do I have a brain? Don't I have a brain?" debate.

"My, it's good to be free!" and it is; it would be even better though if he hade some coordination along with that missing brain. That way he'd be able to spin without falling over.

"Did I scare you?"

"No, I thought just you hurt yourself." Well, that's a bad thing, considering he's a SCAREcrow. Well, she's not a crow but still.

"But I didn't scare you?" she reassures him he didn't "didn't think so." Just at that moment a crow lands on the fence behind him and will not go away. He tries "Boo", then "Scat" and "Boo" again – it actually comes closer and lands on him. It only flies away after it's pecked at him – presumably to go laugh about him with all it's crow friends.

"See I can't even scare a crow: they come from miles around just to eat in my field and laugh in my face. Oh, I'm a failure! It's because I haven't got a brain." This overdramatic show reminds him of someone – a perky little blonde with a rather shrill voice.

"Well, what would you do with a brain if you had one?"

"Do? Well If I had a brain I could...

_I could wile away the hours  
Conferrin' with the flowers  
Consultin' with the rain  
And my head I'd be scratchin'  
While my thoughts were busy hatchin'  
If I only had a brain_

I'd unravel any riddle  
For any individ'le  
In trouble or in pain."

She joins in, "_With the thoughts you'd be thinkin'  
You could be another Lincoln  
If you only had a brain."_

"Oh, I would tell you why  
The ocean's near the shore  
I could think of things I never thunk before  
And then I'd sit and think some more

I would not be just a nuffin'  
My head all full of stuffin'  
My heart all full of pain  


_I would dance and be merry  
Life would be a ding-a-derry  
If I only had a brain."_

"Oh, wonderful! Why, if our scarecrow back in Kansas could do that, the crows would be scared to pieces!"

"They would?" Maybe he should go live in Kansas then. Where is Kansas? He asks her.

"It's where I live and I want to get back there so badly I'm going all the way to Emerald City to help me."

"You're going to see a wizard?" He has a bad feeling in his stomach about this, which was weird because, not only did he not have a brain, he didn't have a stomach. "Do you think if I went with you, this wizard would give me a brain?" This would kill two birds with one stone: he could finally be able to answer his own questions and he could look after the girl.

"I couldn't say, but even if he didn't, you'd be no worse off than you are now."

"I guess that's true."

"But maybe you better not. I've got a witch mad at me and you might get into trouble." Well, that settled it; he couldn't let her go off by herself now.

"Witch? I'm not afraid of a witch! I'm not afraid of anything!" he then remembered a thought from before and whispered, "Except a lighted match!"

"I don't blame you for that." She still didn't seem convinced he should come.

"But I'd face a whole box of them for the chance of getting some brains. Look, I won't be any trouble because I don't eat a thing," or he hadn't felt hungry yet, at least, "and I won't try to manage things, because I don't think." Well, he had thoughts but he still couldn't figure them out, "Won't you take me with you?"

"Why, of course I will!"

"Hurray! We're off to see a wizard!" the coordination thing became a problem again and he fell into her.

"You're not starting out very well."

"Oh, I'll try, really I will!

"To Oz?"

"To Oz!"

"_We're off to see the Wizard  
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz  
We hear he is a Whiz of a Wiz  
If ever a Wiz there was  
_

_If ever, oh ever, a Wiz there was  
The Wizard of Oz is one because  
Because, because, because, because, because  
Because of the wonderful things he does  
We're off the see the wizard  
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz."_

Maybe he should ask his new travelling partner her name.


End file.
